


Convergence, Part 1

by Ch4rl13Sm1th



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Changeling Jim Lake Jr, Trollhunter Claire Nuñez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25569496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ch4rl13Sm1th/pseuds/Ch4rl13Sm1th
Summary: Following Labyrinth and Light Clad in the timeline, the Trollhunters have to decide between rescuing Claire's brother or ultimately preventing Gunmar's return.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little pressure is conducive to the creative process. Too much suffocates the muse. This is a tribute while she's gasping for air.  
> It's rough around the edges, but if it gets enough attention, I might be obliged to revise it.

With bumble and banter the students stopped by Blinky's library on the way to train at the Hero's Forge. Toby apologized again for the stone gift he had given Darci that turned out to be inhabited.

“I don’t get an apology? I passed out in math, again,” Claire lamented. “I’d say you owe me a favor, but I can’t trust you to do my homework to my mom’s standards!”

Blinky called out to them warmly, energized to share with more ears the progress that he had made in his research.

Jim mumbled in the corner where he had been reading. As the girls conversed with Blinky, his mumbles became more desperate. Claire eventually turned to him. " Are you joining us at the Forge?"

"Mh cmmt."

"Are you okay?"

He hadn't moved the whole time that they were there. Darci dropped to his side. "What’s wrong? What are you feeling?"

"Cmmt. Mmv," he grit his teeth. "Mmssm hrmt."

"Perhaps growing pains," Blinky offered. "Sometimes the muscles stiffen for trolls, and he is rather young for a… part troll.”

"Does it hurt?" Jim answered Claire's concern with a whine. "We gotta do something," she urged. 

"Nonsense, it's completely normal for a whelp to go through-" he attempted to pat Jim on the shoulder and toppled him over. Jim remained in the position he studied in like a statue of a scholar. "On second thought, we'll pay Vendel a visit." The blue troll contemplated for a moment, and then picked up the boy in his four arms. Darci cringed and Claire snapped as the troll bumped his bulky cargo in the doorframe. 

***

"Well, if it isn't the Trollhunter and the "gang"," Vendel remarked upon their entrance. 

Vendel perceived their concern and cleared his work bench. Blinky gingerly deposited the boy, but Jim's legs and arms stiffly remained in an odd position and so he had to be laid sideways. Darci listed off the symptoms while Vendel poked and prodded him. The old troll was verbally unresponsive for a time, but he turned to a book on one of the work surfaces and flipped through it. He passed it to Blinky and explained the passage while he threw ingredients together into a mortar. 

“Growing pains,” he assured nonchalantly. The human girls were about to retort except that he continued. “I took the liberty of doing some research on changelings, specifically polymorphs. They're also referred to as doppelgangers, but little accurate information about them is left.

“Their composition is unstable," he continued to drone. "It's this specific quality that grants them the gift of completely transforming into another form, but the trait can also be the detriment of the creature.” After grinding the ingredients, he added the mixture into a mug and stirred in a tincture. “When it was apparent that an individual was a doppelganger, they were either killed or ostracized. The ones that begat offspring hid their lineage, so when it was revealed during puberty, the parent was usually out of the picture to save their own neck. That's how so little is known about them as a species.”

"Sounds about right," Toby concurred. 

“Those fortunate enough to keep their true identity a secret suffered the consequences. They developed chronic kidney stones, or gallstones. The longer they survived, the more bizarre the symptoms. Calcium deposits in the digestive tract. Iron in the heart. Lead in the bones.

“Despite that the species was dying out, the Pale Lady," he groaned the name, "found a usefulness for their gift. She created her own version of the creature. Even magic has its limitations; for a creature to take another form, it needed a form to take." The troll put a cover on the vessel and shook it. "And from there you're about as familiar with the process as I am. A troll is bonded to a human to borrow its form, so long as the human remains in perfect condition and within the confines of the nursery.”

Claire brushed hair behind her ear as she considered it. “But with the glamour mask, Jim can take anyone's shape-"

“Illusory magic," Vendel dismissed. "Completely different from transmutation. The glamour mask gives the appearance that Jim chooses, but it does not grant him their form. He can desire to look like the strongest human in the world, but it will not make him the strongest human.

“As I was saying, his own genetic composition could cause an early end for him if left untreated. Fortunately, I'm skilled at apothecary medicine. He needs to drink this."

Claire climbed up onto the slab to hold Jim still as Vendel tilted the drink to his lips. Some spilled down Jim’s chin because of his enlarged canines and clenched jaw, but once he managed to swallow some, almost immediately his muscles relaxed enough that he could drink more easily. He downed the entire beverage, and its result was speedy. There was a low rumble like stones adjusting under shifting weight. His chest began to visibly move with his breath, and his arms draped to his sides. Claire clambered back to stand beside Blinky. The changeling took a few deep breaths and a deep sigh before he spoke. 

“That stuff bites back. What did you add to it?”

“A catalyst, for medical emergencies only. It's a solution we give to whelps experiencing severe growth pains. Under normal circumstances, it would be too corrosive for you.”

Jim wiped his chin. “It tastes like the elixir Strickler gave me after training.”

“Indeed. It prevents the petrification of living stone. Your mentor was wise in giving you treatment as early as he did. And he displayed wisdom in specifying the dosage after exertion, when your body was most vulnerable. He may have saved your life.” Jim scoffed at the last comment. “When was the last time you had a draught?”

Jim thought lazily about it. “A few days ago, before I got here.” 

Claire asked worriedly. “Is he going to be okay?”

“The Heartstone will expedite his recovery. He needs only to rest here for a time. When he's up for it, I'll show him how to mix the elixir. It would do him good to know a few recipes.”

Jim smiled at Claire's concern and Vendel's offer. A blanket was brought for him and he was left to rest. 

“Worry not, Trollhunter,” Vendel consoled Claire. He explained that with the changes Jim's body was undergoing, though currently painful, the results would be worth it. He assured as well that Jim would be well taken care of by Vendel himself. 

***

Not long afterward Jim joined the TrollHunters as they trained. Claire commented on how quickly he moved. He was faster and stronger, and tested his strength by doing leaps that were impossible for a human. He cheered over how well he felt.   
Eventually in the heat of combat, Claire landed a hit on him. He rolled on the ground, unresponsive. She ran to his aid. 

She couldn't react fast enough. He was behind her, a pole braced to her throat. "Don't trust anyone but yourself. Not even me." She struggled. Though he wouldn't injure her, he braced the pole in such a manner that she couldn't wriggle free. She tried to force the pole away, but Vendel was right about the strength of living stone. 

"Rule number three," she warned. 

"Oh no." He released the pole immediately and backed away, hands held up in a gesture of peace. 

Claire rubbed at her throat. "Do you really feel that way, Jim? That you can't trust anyone?"

"I'm not the only polymorph."

"That's not what I mean."

He dropped his arms to his sides. He wanted to justify to her his wariness of others, but he wanted to justify to himself his natural desire to trust.

"You know you can trust me," Claire promised. 

"...I do," he assured. "Silvered spectacles."

***

A troll stopped by the Heartstone to pick up a remedy from Vendel. 

“Who made it?” He gestured to the product. 

“What do you mean who made it,” Vendel spat back the inquiry. The customer glanced at the boy that mixed solutions at a bench with his back turned to the entrance. “I made it. Who else?” The troll glanced sideways at the boy, who pretended not to be listening.

There was silence for a moment after the guest left. “Why did you tell him that,” Jim finally asked. 

Vendel scoffed. “I supervise you. I taught you the recipe. I made it by extension.”

Jim pretended to occupy himself again with his task until he decided his next words. “Why are you nice to me?”

“Why wouldn't I be? You're but a child. As your elder, it is my duty to be an example to you.” Jim finally looked at the old troll, who treated the conversation as nonchalantly as he sorted the items on the bench. 

***

Jim didn't think much of the sound of footsteps descending into the library until Claire’s voice called out. “Blinky? How's it going with the-" He leapt from his seat in a panic and reached behind a pile of books for his last white t-shirt. “Jim?”

“Just a sec-" _rip_. The shirt caught on his horns and in his hurry he tore through the back. He swore in Trollish, now tangled in cotton threads. He stopped wiggling at the touch of her delicate hands, which pulled at the mess of threads and fabric. 

“Is everything okay?” She perceived that he was flustered. 

“It's fine. I just… wanted to be proper around the lady. But that was my last shirt.”

“It's okay. I see now why trolls don't usually bother with clothes.” He looked at the cloak hanging on a bookshelf, but Claire stood in the way. Coyly she stepped sideways into his path as he started toward it. “Are you embarrassed?”

“What? Of what, what would I be embarrassed about?” His heart was almost visibly thundering in his chest, which her eyes lingered on. Her cheeks were rosy. This was not the response he expected from her. 

“... your scrawny muscles,” she smirked, clearly lying. “Where's Blinky? I was going to ask him how research was going.”

***

"Shadowstaff!" Blinky identified the crooked weapon in Jim's hands. "Very dangerous. Let me take that from you." He made to reach for it like one would reach into a thorny rosebush.

Jim gave the staff a twirl in his hands. It called to him. Petrified wood, an organic turned stone, like himself. And maybe something more. “Nah, I'm going to keep it.”

***

“My child.” That wasn't his mother's voice. It penetrated deeper than his own thoughts, yet remained in his head. It violated him while it cooed over him.

***

His vision went black. The staff went black. A flash of light and Claire was on the floor on top of Mary, and where Mary stood a moment ago was a black hole suspended midair.   
Out of terror he dropped the staff. "I'm so sorry," he muttered. He looked at his hands. Monstrous hands capable of monstrous deeds. All eyes surrounding him were fearful. They were afraid of him.   
"I'm so sorry," he repeated, and ran out as fast as he could.

***

He wanted a dark corner, a small place to guard his back and not be seen. What better place to become lost than in a labyrinth of sewers? The hood was pulled over his head, the cloak wrapped around him. He curled his knees to his chest. Some protector he was. Who would save him from himself? He heard Claire's voice calling his name. Don't look for Jim, he's dead, he thought to himself.   
She knew him too well. She came close, passing in front of the alcove with her hand brushed up against the opposite wall to guide her in the dark. Her human sight prevented her from seeing his dark shape. She called out to him. He reached a hand out, but withdrew it. He was ashamed. How pitiful to think he could hide. He had no other desire, and so he remained, and he closed his eyes to mask the sparks of his eyes.   
She came back again, hand brushed against the wall, and entered the alcove. "... Jim?" He caved, and regarded her with bright icy eyes.   
"How'd you find me?"   
"If you always keep your left hand on the wall, you can't get lost in a maze." She smiled at her own wisdom.   
"You cheated. You switched walls."   
"Then help me find my way out." She winked, although her eyes couldn't properly train on him in the dark. Her feet shuffled forward, and he couldn't help but reach for her hand to guide her. She sat across from him, near enough to brush at the hair growing on the side of his face, thankfully with her right hand. Her touch smoothed away his insecurities. 

"Jim, what happened back there?"

"I don't know. I wasn't myself, and that scared me."

"Whatever you are, you're still you."

***

She convinced him to go back to Trollmarket. Mary seemed to take the incident far more lightly than he did. She brandished the handle of the collapsed staff and shook it around when squeezing it was fruitless. "How do you get this thing to open," she despaired.

"You use your heart," Jim offered. 

Mary braced the handle in both hands against her chest and used all her might. 

Darci guffawed. "I knew it! She's heartless!"

Jim reacquired the staff and closed his eyes. He thought about his mom, about his eagerness to show her his small success in acquiring the staff, about surprising her with a successful portal. A pleasant daydream of a child's desire that would never come true, but it did the trick. The staff telescoped. “How did you figure out how to use it? Did Blinky tell you?” Darci asked. 

It felt like the staff was telling him how to use, it or something. There was a voice that instructed him. But if the others couldn't hear it, maybe he should keep it to himself. “I can just kind of tell.”

***

Jim came over, thinking he could sleep over at Toby's, but with Wingman there, the little bedroom was crowded. Jim tried sleeping on the floor with the extra pillow but he tossed and turned with the feeling that he was trying to force himself in a place that he didn't belong. He would have insisted he was about to fall asleep (he wasn't) when he was scooped up and deposited on top of the warm boulder. He looked up in surprise at AAARRRGGHH!!!’s face. The giant was still asleep. Jim smirked to himself that the gentle giant was a cuddler. The sensation was strange. He felt like he was laying down on a sun warmed slope, and when he lay his ear against the chest of the sleeper, there was a sound like a breeze in a tunnel. It didn't help him to the point that he fell asleep, but he did feel relaxed. He thought more about trolls and his ancestry and felt less alone over the changes he was going through. 

He was awake a half hour before Toby's alarm would go off. He couldn't stand to lay down anymore and snuck out of the troll's grasp, quickly placing his pillow into the AAARRRGGHH!!!'s arms and snuck downstairs. He considered surprising Toby with breakfast, kind of like the good old days when he would pack them lunch. Nana specialized in baking, so she always kept the essentials like four, baking soda, etc. He couldn't pass up the chance to make blueberry pancakes and hoped she didn't have a fruit crumble planned out for the berries. He hummed to himself as he expertly mixed ingredients. 

The lights switched on. He turned to say good morning and froze. It wasn't Toby in the doorway.

“A burglar,” Nana groggily speculated. 

“What? No! I'm- I'm Toby's friend, from school," he recovered. 

She listened carefully to his voice. “Have we met?”

He sank at her words. He considered the times he'd helped Toby with dishwashing while she baked them cookies. “I don't think so.” He reached a flour-powdered hand to shake hers. “I'm Jareth.”

She took his hand and squinted at him. She must have been planning a quick trip to the kitchen for water or something, he speculated, seeing as she hadn't put on her glasses. She may not be able to see how his pupils slitted, but he feared she would notice the teeth. “My that smells swell,” she appraised.

“Blueberry pancakes. Want some?”

“It's been a while since anyone's made this old lady breakfast.” She meandered to the cabinets but Jareth insisted he would get the plates for them. Instead she patiently sat at the table. “I wish Toby would tell me when he was having friends over. Jareth, you said?”

“Yeah. We go to different schools, so we don't get to see much of each other.” He set a stack of pancakes before her. 

“I'm so glad he's making friends again. When his friend passed,” she sighed heavily. “Poor boy was so heartbroken.” Jim's ears twitched low as he served her a platter of pancakes. He had no control over the stunt pulled by the Janus Order, but he still felt guilty for what his friend had to endure. “No wonder he's been doing so much better now that he has friends like you looking out for him. My, these are tasty!” He beamed at the compliment. 

***

Toby froze at the doorway and rubbed his eyes to be sure he wasn't still asleep. Nana and Jim were laughing together at the breakfast table. Eventually they noticed him stuttering. “Oh, Toby pie, you didn't tell me Jareth was staying over.”

“But, but, but-" he pointed a hand at his own face and then used the other hand to point at Jim, who waved a hand over his throat. “So we're going with that. Yeah. Jareth.”

“Didn't your friend Jim cook too?” Toby's eyes darted to the languid half troll who was unresponsive to the connection Nana made. Jim took another bite of his breakfast rather than redirect the conversation.

“Yeah, he did.”

“I think Jareth was sent by an angel, to fill the hole in our hearts Jimmy left behind. And to teach you how to cook. It's a very important skill and your future wife will love you for it.” Jareth chuckled at her deductions and at Toby's flustering. If only changelings could grow up in an atmosphere this welcoming they may not be two timing traitors. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is risking her newfound place as a hero to trolls to gather the Triumbric Stones to break into the Darklands and rescue her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little pressure is conducive to the creative process. Too much suffocates the muse. This is a tribute while she's gasping for air.  
> It's rough around the edges, but if it gets enough attention, I might be obliged to revise or add to it.

"Bring back my baby brother!" Claire lunged, Daylight manifesting in her hands and armor clinking into place across her body. The blade stopped short of her target’s nose, the broad blade reflecting the dim stars and the changeling’s nostrils.

"I… I can't…" Mr. Strickler groveled.

Claire snarled. "What do you mean, you can't? Don't you head an organisation of kidnappers? Tell a goblin to bring back my brother!" 

A rustling sounded off in a tree from Claire’s front yard as she raised her voice. Her mind darted to goblins, but she saw the interim principal quiver with wide eyes like a trapped animal. He glanced over his shoulders and pleaded in hushed tones. "I _can't!_ If I had any power left in the Order, I wouldn't be groveling to the Trollhunter, now, would I?"

"Then why should I help you," she spat. 

"You destroyed Angor's soul,” he reasoned, “and now he's on the warpath. If he kills me, Barbara dies as well. Surely you don't want an innocent human to be victim to your negligence?" A bit of his old character showed as he played at her, but even still the attempt wavered in fear.

"I could kill you if I could kill you," she growled between clenched teeth. She looked back at the glowing windows of the house, recalling that her parents were in the living room. She pierced him with a glare before dismissing the armor and gesturing for him to follow behind her through the back door. She tiptoed through the kitchen, and once the coast was clear, pointed to another door. "Get in the basement. Not a peep!"

She closed the door behind them. Strickler glanced fearfully at the shadows. He stopped dead in his tracks at the foot of the stairs, staring off into a corner.

"I come to you for protection, and you lead me into a den of lions," Strickler scoffed. 

A snarl answered.

"Not a peep,” she snapped. She turned to the shadows. “Draal, don't hurt him, remember he's got that binding spell on Jim's mom."

"What is _he_ doing here,” Draal menaced.

"Angor is looking for him, he just needs to spend the night here and I'll figure out the rest in the morning." She turned to the interim principal. "There's a bucket if you need it. Don't come up until I say the coast is clear."

"Why would I need a… oh, I'd rather wait."

Claire exited back up the stairways. The changeling grimaced at the prospect of spending the night in close quarters with a troll. Draal looked him in the eye and took an onion off the shelf and chewed it. When he swallowed, he lifted a leg and released the scent of death. Strickler keeled over coughing.

***

In the morning, Claire waited for the car to disappear down the road before opening the door to the basement. Strickler thundered up the stairs and gasped for air. "Thank heavens!"

"Calm down, you survived the night," she reprimanded.

" _Barely._ He gave himself indigestion on purpose!"

"Imagine how I feel having to change NotEnrique! He knows how to use a toilet. He _chooses_ the diaper."

Draal chuckled heartily as he followed the changeling out of the basement. "I agreed to keep him alive, not comfortable."

She took out her phone and started a call.

"What are you doing," the changeling ventured.

"Calling for backup."

"Oh _goodie_ , the puberty patrol is on the case. I feel so _safe_."

"It was easier to tolerate you when you were pretending to be my teacher. Hey, _Jim_ , you won't guess what happened." Strickler's eyes bulged and he made a cutting motion over his throat. "Is your mom home today? In that case, can we meet up at your place? See you soon."

The changeling pressed his fingertips to his brow in disbelief. "What are you thinking, getting him involved?"

" _You_ keep waving his mom's life around, and he's not already involved?" Strickler looked away darkly. "Have you even seen him since the bridge?"

"Once." He thought back to when Jim ambushed him in his car with a dagger to his throat. 

***

"What is _he_ doing here," Jim snarled. The air was thick with tension between the changelings.

Claire softened her voice as she addressed Jim. "He needs to hide out somewhere safe while we figure out how to take out Angor Rot before he finds Strickler."

"Let him find Strickler. We're supposed to be getting the last Triumbric stone, not babysitting a traitor."

"Jim, the binding spell," she reminded gently.

He roared in frustration. _"I forgot._ Well, then, what's the plan? Can't have him hiding here all weekend."

"All weekend," NotEnrique chirped from where he sat on the counter. 

"Mom messaged me, she's booked the whole weekend."

"That at least buys us some time," Claire considered. 

"Time for what," NotEnrique croaked. "To write his will?" He cackled.

***

The front door handle rattled. Changelings, troll, and trollhunter darted to their marks. Claire took the gold and black eye, stuffed it in her purse, and took out the amulet before zipping the bag shut and glancing around the corner of the bookcase. 

The door opened. "Kiddo, are you here? It turns out that I have the day off, Wanda messed up my schedule again." Barbara let herself in and hung her purse on the rack. The perfectly tensioned knot on the knob began to slip.

"No, mom!" Jim leapt out of the shadows and shoved her aside as metal sliced through the air and stuck in the door.

Barbara screamed. "Was that an ax?! Jim, what- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!" Panicked, he pulled the hood over his head. 

"Barbara, are you okay," Strickler called from behind the barricade. 

"Walter?! What are you doing here? Is that a crossbow?!" 

Strickler stared at the tool in his hand a moment and then shamefully stashed it behind his back.

A fully armored Trollhunter stepped from behind a booby trap. "I can explain, Doctor L."

"Claire?!"

**"DIE, ANGOR!"** The basement door was thrown open and Draal bolted through, charging into the chaos in the hall.

Jim stood in the way and held up his hands."No, Draal!"

Barbara panicked. She screamed. She reached in her purse and took out her pepper spray, which she unleashed on Draal, catching Jim in the spray. 

"Mom, it's me!" Jim cowered on the floor, wiping his face of streaming tears and stinging solution. Draal swiped at the spray madly and staggered into the booby traps. He tripped on Jim and fell into a rope, resulting in a cooking pot filled with rocks flying into his face. Disoriented, he slammed into another hotwire so a lever flung him into the bookcase, which pinned him to the ground.

Barbara screamed. Jim tried to console her, talking through the cape he wiped across his face. "It's okay, mom, he's a friend!"

"Oh, no," Claire stood over the troll, counting how many traps and combatants they were short of.

"He was a friend," Stickler jested. "Now he's out cold." Barbara crumpled to the floor next. "And now, so is she."

"Why doesn't that knock you out," Claire cursed the binding curse under her breath.

***

"So, let me get this straight. There's good trolls, and bad trolls, and then you?" A glass trembled in Barbara's hands as she tried to process what she was told. 

Jim swallowed. "Um, changelings. Well..."

They stood awkwardly, except Barbara, who sat in a chair in the hall since the rest of the furniture had been overturned and rooms refurnished. Claire paced slowly, keeping an ear out for the threat. Strickler offered Barbara more water, and she took the pitcher from his hands and drank freely. Afterward she caught her breath and wiped her mouth. “Take that stupid thing off,” she instructed her son.

“Yes, ma'am.” Jim reached for his face, and in a flash of light a taller figure with horns and fangs was revealed, a look of shame and embarrassment across his face. He tucked the wooden mask away into his satchel. 

“Did you do this to my son?” Barbara directed her question at Mr. Strickler. Jim reconsidered the innocence of the elixir Strickler gave him to prevent his organs from petrifying. They'd already explained Jim's genetics, but Barbara struggled to digest it. Strickler was fatigued at receiving the brunt of the blame for the children's shenanigans. It wasn't as if he'd chosen the Trollhunter, and he'd tried earnestly to keep Jim away from her. 

“I had no hand in his genetic composition,” he answered. Barbara shot him a dirty look. 

"What about you? Are you wearing a mask?"

"No," Strickler answered honestly.    


Jim coughed. "Bushigal."

Strickler side glanced at him. "If I may, Barbara." He steepled his hands, "There is a vast world beneath our feet, and your son has stirred up a heap of trouble."

"Dude!"

Claire quipped, "Oh, sure, it wasn't like you were the one-"

"If he had just stayed with the Order-"

"So you could control what-"

"Please!" Claire and Strickler halted their bickering at Jim's plea. 

Strickler sighed. "I'll give you two a moment." He stepped over to Draal and kicked at the troll before going to his station near the back door. 

Jim sighed in anticipation of Barbara's questions. "I can't believe this is what you've been doing all along, all the secrets and disappearing for days, and the horns- how long have you had horns?"

"Since enrolling in Strickler's dreamt-up school for politicians." 

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I didn't want you to freak out," he regretted the words as soon as they were out. 

"Freak out?! I'm beyond freaked out! I've been feeling like I'm harboring a fugitive! There was a time where you used to tell me everything," she grieved. 

"I'm sorry, mom. I was just trying to protect you."

"It is _my_ job to protect _you_."

As if to challenge her, cans rattled. The intrusive sound made Jim puzzle at first about the distraction.

Claire blurted, “the alarm!”

“Draal was supposed to guard the basement,” Strickler deferred, looking down at the still dozing mass of stone beneath the bookshelf.

The basement door opened. Jim was able to see from where he stood the orb of void as it rolled across the floor. Another eye? But no light could gleam off the surface, and there was no identifying feature, except that it seemed to consist of all the darkness between the stars in the midnight sky.

A voice chanted. Jim should have leapt for his satchel by the door, with his staff collapsed within. He should have been concerned about the power in the chant, but he couldn’t focus past the familiarity of the words in a language that had never before touched his ears, like a far away melody of a memory.

And the world went black.

“For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!” Claire raced through the syllables and dropped from a brief suspension as the plates of power materialized over her.

Barbara stammered, “Claire, are you _glowing?”_

“Part of the job,” Claire dismissed warm heartedly, although her eyes darted at the purple smoke that flickered at each dark bulb and shattered them. Jim shrank away into the shadows as the Order taught him. Strickler pulled Barbara behind the overturned table and brandished the crossbow in the darkness.

Claire’s glowing form jerked, at first to anticipate Angor, and then to stop his blade. Daylight gleamed against his pale eye and dull horns as he pushed against her sword. “You did not run, brave hunter,” he growled breathily, “but the brave are the first to die.”

“Strickler,” Claire called behind her where the changeling guarded the doctor.

Jim called from the direction of the basement door. “Here,” he guided the adults. Barbara allowed herself to be guided from the living room, but when Jim began to close the door after them, she faltered. 

“No, wait, Jim-”

“I’ll be fine, mom.” He looked to Strickler. Jim was apprehensive. He wanted to believe that his decision was founded on the risk of either of them being present, but he knew from seeing the way the changeling guided her through the dark that she would be okay in his care. He did consider that it remained in the changeling’s best interest to protect her, anyway, and began to close the door.

“No, Jim-”

Strickler’s gaze flickered back at him, as if he realized something as well, and he didn’t say anything to stop his apprentice.

Jim turned back to the heat of the battle. Their blades were tied up against each other, but Claire might have been doing marginally better. At a glint of pale gold, she cried out to Jim in warning.

The troll waved his hand.

A circle glowing like the violet dusk carved elaborate sigils around Jim’s feet, and ethereal chains of smoke and shadow snaked around him, pinning him spread-eagle midair.

“No!” In the instant Claire turned her attention to Jim, Angor curled his legs to his chest and flung her across the room. He leapt to his feet to pursue her.

Jim began to chant. Darkness consumed his vision. The black of the void glazed his eyes. The chains slithered like serpents and slipped under his skin toward his core. The circle beneath him dissipated. He extended his hand and spoke in a language his mouth had never before uttered. The staff flew from his satchel across the room, into his hand. "What is this," Angor exclaimed, but the boy was suddenly on his knees and leaning on the staff for support. He swayed and collapsed just as Strickler darted out of the basement and threw a blade to get Angor's attention. 

***

"Jim! My baby!"

He groaned as he came to. "Mom? Mom, what are you still doing here?!"

"I can't just leave you-" she screamed and clutched at her neck. Draal shuffled from beneath the bookshelf at the outcry. 

"What is it?" Jim stared at the glowing streak of magic across his mother’s neck.

"I don't know, I…" she faltered. 

"Draal! Get to the others, something went wrong! They're upstairs!"

"On it." The troll stumbled, but steadily regained himself and charged up the stairs. 

"Mom, we've got to get you out of here," he repeated.

***

Jim fumbled with the phone as the car jolted from another assault.

"Jim, open a portal," Claire demanded when she'd steadied the wheel. 

"What?!"

"We don't have time to wait for Blinky, just get us there!"

His eyes flared open at the prospect. "I can't do that! We're going too fast, and we're too big, and what if I mess it up and Angor makes it through-"

"Your mom's life depends on it! I'll cover you. Strickler, take the wheel." Claire slipped into the backseat between Jim and Barbara.

Strickler called to her bitterly over his shoulder, "your legs are too short, I can't get into the driver's seat!"

"Make it work, goblin legs!" Strickler straddled the center console to control the gas with his left foot as he steered with his left hand, his right clutching at the wound on his throat. "Jim, open a portal!"

"Okay, okay, uh…" He climbed over the back seat and through the shattered rear window so that he could point the staff over the roof of the car. He meditated on his second home, using fear to fuel the staff. A portal began to open, and a purple blaze rushed at it. Jim panicked, afraid to allow Angor's magic into Trollmarket, and the portal was dispelled. He attempted another one, but he couldn't get it to grow large enough to encompass the vehicle, which veered from its path as Strickler started to fade. He dispelled that one before it split the car. He cried back to the Trollhunter. "I can't do this!"

"Jim," Claire pulled herself up beside him and commanded his focus. For a moment it was just them two. He strained to hear her voice over the rushing wind that threw back her hair. "Trust me to have your back. You can do this."

He nodded wordlessly. She twisted back and deftly swatted away a bolt of Angor’s magic. Jim realized then that the fear had been divided, and with Claire at his back, he could focus on his concern for his mom. The staff remained steady, and a shadow pierced the plane of reality ahead of them.

***

Vendel reemerged from the healing den and Jim immediately turned to him. “How is my mom?”

The sage troll looked to his pupil and was cautious in delivering the news. “She is resting for now, but we must move her to the Heartstone.”

“Blinky says we have to break the binding spell,” he quickly offered.

It did not go without Vendel’s notice how desperately Jim sought the smallest hope. “I agree with his assessment. She cannot properly heal while still bound to the changeling,” he noticed Jim’s eyes brighten and sighed, “Unfortunately, this is Gumm Gumm magic and thus, I don’t know the proper incantation."

"He knows the incantation," Jim accused, turning to point to the other patient that limped from the healing den with Vendel. The trolls nearest Strickler crowded around him menacingly. 

"I don't have it-" Aaarrrgghh!!! snarled and Strickler cowered, " _with_ me. It's in the Ga-huel, in my office."

Toby punched a fist into his other palm. "We have to be careful. That crazy psychopath will be there."

Jim pulled on his horns. "Oh! I forgot about Angor Rot!"

"No, Coach Lawrence! It's the Spring Fling dance and he's gonna be roaming the halls!"

“Oh. Right.”

Claire perked up. "I think I remember where-"

"No," Jim cut her off. "I'll get it. Stay here and keep my mom safe," he sighed, "which means keeping him safe,” he scowled about Mr. Strickler. “If you leave, everyone in Trollmarket will probably pummel him."

"I've been in his office, I'll go," Toby volunteered.

Jim smiled sadly, wanting to make a remark about old times, but the risk weighed heavily on him. He opened a portal and Toby saluted the trolls before stepping through. Before Jim could follow him, Claire pulled back his arm. “You’re hiding from her,” she pointed out.

He sagged. “I shouldn’t have come back. I should have stayed dead, none of this would have happened if I’d just stayed away.”

“Jim, there’s another way,” she squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. “We’ll save her, and then you can tell her everything.” He looked to her to question her certainty. Claire gave a confident nod, and the bright little feeling fluttered in his throat as he stepped through the portal.

Vendel watched after them and then turned to the trolls. "Take him to the stronghold," he commanded.

"Gently," Claire pleaded. 

***

Claire returned from supervising the transportation of the prisoner to his temporary cell. Vendel nodded her in to check with Barbara.

“Hey, Doctor L,” Claire tried to sound upbeat. “Patient, now, I guess. How are you feeling?”

Barbara looked up from where she lay on the workbench, where Claire and Blinky had laid Jim when his body was stiff with growing pains. “I’m either having the most vivid lucid dreams of my life, or I’m living a nightmare. Where’s Jim?”

“He went to school,” Claire answered honestly with a chuckle. She studied the pillow to see if it was one of the grimy sacks from Bagdwella’s shop. It was not. She wondered what else Vendel may have stashed in his workshop besides sanitary bedding. “He’s coming back, everything will be okay,” she assured.

"How much of this does your mother know?"

Claire attempted a smile but grimaced instead. She brushed her hair back behind her ear. "She doesn't need to have more on her plate…"

"She is your mother. Trust me when I say that you take first priority. Ophelia wouldn't be in city council if she weren't trying to make the world a better place to raise her children." Claire turned away to blink back the guilt. Barbara continued, "I wasn't given a chance to be there for Jim. He must have felt so alone, changing like that, too scared to come to me, his own mother. He used to tell me everything. It's not fair."

"He was just trying to protect you," Claire attempted to diffuse.

"It's my job to protect him." Barbara sniffled, "he's afraid of me, isn't he? Afraid I won't love him anymore? Because his teeth got big? You should've seen him in second grade, both his front teeth came in together. He looked like a rabbit. I loved him then, too."

Claire chuckled somberly and wiped the corner of her eye. "It's my fault. I'm the one trying to keep things under wraps. If my mom found out, she wouldn't understand. She'd lock me up, and then nothing would stop the Gumm Gumms- the, uh, bad trolls, from coming to the surface and eating people."

"Try her," Barbara dared. 

***

“WHAT DO YOU _MEAN_ , you won’t undo the binding spell?!” The amulet trembled at her emotion and flung itself to Claire’s chest, the plates of armor manifesting to make her build a little bigger. “I thought you _cared_ about her!” She stepped up to the kneeling changeling and prodded an armored finger at his chest. They both knew that manifesting the Daylight blade from this proximity would be fatal, but both for Strickler and Barbara.

Strickler lamented, “I do care for her, much to my surprise, and quite deeply. I might even love her.”

His words clung to the air like smoke. “You have some way of showing it,” Claire snarled.

“As you yourself must have realized, young Trollhunter, this bond has been the only thing keeping me alive. Would you not have slain me by now without it?" _Young Atlas came close,_ he recalled.

“And if she doesn’t make it?” Shadows fell across his face as the realization dawned. “What’s keeping you alive beyond that? Believe it or not, I believe in a thing called honor. Do your part to save her, and I promise that you will make it out of here unscathed. Even if I have to hold Jim back, myself.” There was an unexpressed wink in her tone.

“You’ve given me much to consider, young Trollhunter,” Strickler admitted. He accepted her hand and followed her out of the holding den. 


End file.
